"There'll never be another Camelot"
~Jacqueline Kennedy~
"OH, HOLY FUCK!"
My car came screeching to a halt, the cry of my cars hood screaming at me as I saw the bare skin of something hit my windscreen, cracking it automatically.
Someone.
Oh, my god - I had just hit someone.
I had just killed someone.
"No, no-no, no, no, no," I screeched, my eyes wide as my shaking hands gripped the steering wheel - the smocking cigarette that lay between my fingers dropping onto my dash. I squished it with my hand, shakily getting out of the car as my wide eyes came across something you could only ever witness on some gruesome cop show - a show I readily avoided.
What was I going to do?
Oh, my god - I was going to prison.
Prison, where surely I would become someone's bitch.
Or someone would become mine.
Oh, god.
I looked down at the naked - yes, naked, body that lay on the ground, my shaking hands going to it's copper skin to try and see if I hadn't killed the man. As soon as my hands touched him, he let out a slow and agonized groan - his fingers twitching in pain and my hand went to my lips, not able to comprehend what I had just done.
I had killed a nudist.
They were a peaceful species, and I had just killed one of them.
Maybe I had killed their leader.
I couldn't help myself before the disgusting feeling of vomit slithered up my throat and I could barely contain it as it left my lips and onto the side of my bloodied and dirtied car.
I couldn't go to prison - I just couldn't!
Maybe I should just leave.
Yeah, you don't know him - you're in the middle of nowhere!
I hushed my evil thoughts and I knelt down on the hard road - my lips trembling as I rolled the body over, shaking my head at the un-moving god.
And he really was a god.
Unbelievably fucking gorgeous.
Focus, Anna, fucking focus!
My fingers looked at the gashes, and the seeping wounds that pooled with blood. "Oh, holy mother of fucking fucked up shit!"
I felt my eyes pool with unwanted tears as I ripped off my flimsy T-shirt, revealing my scarred abdomen and I bit my lip - pressing it to the flowing wound and I wiped my face, my rattled breathing erratic.
Get control of yourself, Anna.
Now!
I wiped my auburn hair from my face, cursing the Universe with some rather colourful words that are usually thought to only belong to a trucker with a beer belly and a rough beard, that had the remains of his devoured breakfast still stuck in the unruly hair.
Yet I knew every curse word known to man's vocabulary.
What the hell are you even thinking about, Anna?
"Get it together Anna," I muttered, placing my free hand on his chest.
I bit my lip to stop myself from bursting into uncontrollable sobs that would surely succumb me o I allowed them to protrude my facade.
Why does the Universe hate me?
Am I really that bad of a person?
I mean, sure, I wasn't the best person you could imagine but it wasn't like I was fucking Hitler! I looked down at the scratched face, my hand coming down to cradle it and I sighed.
"I need to get you to a hospital, nudist."
Nudist?
You're really calling the man you hit a nudist?
I don't blame the Universe for hating me.
It has good reason.
I am a terrible person.
How am I going to get him in my car?
I stood, my shaking hands running through my hair as my speech rattled off into the ever-consuming silence as I paced.
How was I going to get him in my car?
He was a cow!
Well, the size of one.
He could probably eat a cow by himself - I was sure he was the size of a bear.
A big, huge, massive - unbelievably huge bear.
He had to be over 6'7.
I knelt back down, shakily, my lips inches from his ear as I put my bloodied hand on his face, cupping it. "I'm so, so sorry - but, but I have to move you. I'm so, so sorry."
I went to my car, yanking the door open as I moved all the crap away from the seat and onto the ground - placing my sleeping bag on it so at least he would have a little padding.
Okay.
Breathe, just breathe.
I was called a strong girl at home. I beat everyone whom versed me in arm wrestling, and I was the best. I was always the best. I could verse anyone and I would beat them - ever my father didn't have the muscles to beat me.
Granted, he has barely lifted a weight in his life - but still.
You're strong, Anna, you can do this.
Can you lift a cow?
No.
That is the situation I am dealing with.
And, the fact, that I am a murderer.
Oh, I was going to throw up again.
I looked to his large frame before I grabbed his thick arm, using all my weight I could muster to lift him.
I wasn't exactly successful.
Profanities flying out of my mouth, I could feel the vomit exiting my mouth again and I cried out in pain as I ran a hand over my lips, ridding it of it's chunky vile.
I looked back to his broken body, and I bit my lip - my hands wrapping themselves under his shoulders as I dragged him to my car, slowly getting him onto the seat, which he didn't fit in.
I wound the window down, slipping his overly large legs out of the window as I placed my pillow underneath his head.
"Calm down, Anna. Calm the fuck down."
I breathed out a rattled breath, my hands gripping at the steering wheel as I closed my eyes - shaking my head.
I didn't even know where I was or where I was meant go!
I was meant to be going to a wedding and I had got a dress, and high heels and brought some makeup! I did that, and I was going to make an appearance to my cousins wedding - a cousin that I used to eat her dads bait worms with.
Sure, I was going to raid their buffet table and drink all the conceivable alcohol that they supplied but hey, I hated weddings.
You need alcohol to get through them.
My eyes watered as my rickety, old yellow car slowly started up - my bloodied hands coming up to my face to wipe them away.
Get to forks.
They have a hospital there.
Hopefully.
They must have.
Hopefully.
I need a fucking cigarette.
I rummaged across my dashboard, grabbing the small box as my trembling hands grabbed a singular cigarette as I shakily lit it - the relief of smoke travelling through my body calmed me.
"Okay," I murmured, looking into the cracked review mirror. "Are you okay, Nudist?"
He has a name, you moron!
How am I to know it! It's not like he has it tattooed like a tramp stamp on his lower back.
God, that would be a sight.
"Welcome to Forks," I muttered.
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Edited 8/10/13